One Door Closes
by preciouslittleingenue
Summary: Unable to live with her demons in Paris any longer, Christine journeys to America, leaving Raoul and her buried angel behind for good. She is determined to leave her past in her past, and build a life and a future for herself in the strange new world she's put herself in, but fate has other plans. Multi-Chapter, Strictly Leroux.
1. Chapter 1

Three long weeks on a rocking ship, most of it spent clutching the edge of it, desperately trying to breathe in fresh air as to not become violently ill, and sometimes not succeeding and emptying her stomach overboard. When the weather would not permit this, it was spent in her bed with her knees curled into her stomach and her eyes squeezed shut, trying desperately to think of dry, level ground. Of course she'd been at sea before. But it was on the smallest of sailboats, in the English Channel, off the coast of Perros-Guirec, for only a few hours at a time, with stops to jump in and swim. It was Raoul's sailboat.

It was hard to decipher what was more sickening. The literal tossing and churning of the boat (and consequently her stomach), or the churning of her torn heart. His terribly pained face was forever burned into her memory. Every time she closed her eyes she saw his boyish face age ten years, the light leave his eyes. It kept her up at night, it sent her to the edge of the ship to empty her stomach. It was not always the seasickness.

But every time she doubted herself, she reminded herself why she made this decision in the first place. A fresh start for her own sanity. She surely would have gone mad if she stayed in Paris. And she could not return to Perros. The part of her that once lived there, the youthful, hopeful child was gone, and returning would be too painful. She could have returned to Sweden, but people knew her name there. She was their star, their hometown hero. The Soprano of the Century...

No, she had to leave Europe. She needed to be her own person. Not the Soprano of the Century, not the Opera Ghost's mistress, not the Vicomte de Chagny's mistress. Just...Christine.

Christine was never any of those things. There were grander sopranos than her by far, and she was never, never anyone's mistress. Her relationship to the men in her life was misunderstood by quite literally everyone. Did she love them? Of course. But in what sense she was not quite sure. She knew she felt distinct pain in her heart as she left them both behind for the last time. She could still hear Erik's dreadful sobs, she could still see Raoul's pained face, struggling to maintain himself. Oh, that poor boy. She never wanted to hurt him...she never wanted to hurt either of them. But that was all she did. She caused both of them more pain than she could imagine. And she hated herself for it.

Erik had let her go, and Raoul had begged her to stay.

"I know you love your boy..." Erik had said to her. And with a kiss to his forehead and a promise to bury him someday, she left.

"Please, Christine...I love you...more than life itself..." Raoul had said to her, begged her. Implored her.

"I know," she'd said bravely. "And I am so, so sorry. I just...cannot be what you need me to be. I shall always love my boy." And with a kiss to his forehead and a promise to never forget him, she left.

She meant every word, and she kept her word.

Christine did not leave Paris until his obituary appeared in the paper. It was only a few short months after she'd left him. In that time she'd told Raoul that she needed space, she needed time. And he was so very good to her. He left her alone all that while. She kept her word to Erik when the time was right, and by that time she'd already made up her mind. She packed whatever she could carry and withdrew her money from the bank, all her own savings from pay at the Opera. She bought her ticket for the ship. Then, and only then did she bring herself to face Raoul. She was afraid that if she appeared to him without having already fully prepared for her departure, she would lose her nerve and change her mind. When she appeared on his doorstep, he was overjoyed. The poor boy had probably thought she was finally ready to resume their courtship, their engagement.

Christine kept her word. She buried Erik, and she never forgot Raoul. She never would. How could she? She may have returned the engagement ring, and the necklaces and baubles he'd bought her as gifts (that she'd had to hide from Erik's sight), and the roses and lilies faded with time. But she still had that ratty, unraveling scrap of red fabric. She ran her fingers across it nearly every day. Sometimes she pressed it to her face and cried. It was like mourning the loss of her boy.

In her mind there were three Raouls. There was the Raoul that rescued her scarf and took her sailing, that brought her seashells and bowed to her father: her boy. And then there was the Raoul that brought roses to her dressing room, bowed to her and kissed her hand, covered her lips with his, and, admittedly once or twice, covered her neck with feverish kisses. The Raoul that got down on one knee and swung her about when she'd said yes, the Raoul that let his hands wander as he kissed her. The Raoul that was a man in body, and a boy in sprit. And then there was the Raoul that flinched when she opened the door too abruptly, the Raoul with sunken eyes and pale skin, the Raoul that held her much too tightly, like she would vanish any second, the Raoul that cried for his lost brother. This Raoul was a broken shell of a man that was forced to bury the boy far, far away where he could never be reached again. This was the Raoul that Christine had created. She'd dragged him into her own nightmare, and she was a fool to think he'd come out unscathed. That was why she had to leave. His brokenness was too horrible of a reminder of what she'd done to him...a reminder of the boy she'd killed.

The ratty scarf was all she had left of her boy. She wanted nothing more than to forget the broken Raoul, the Raoul that existed because of her destruction. She promised to always love and remember her boy, and that she would.

She carefully tucked the scarf into her suitcase and closed it; she must prepare to leave the ship. For after three long weeks on a rocking ship, they'd arrived at their destination and were about to dock the ship at Castle Garden. They'd arrived in America.

* * *

 _I've been toying with this concept for a while, and it's finally come to fruition. I was tired of Erik-centered stories, or stories that just generally ignored how Christine feels in every sense of the word, so I've literally removed her from everything she (and we as phans!) was familiar with, so all that's left are her thoughts and personal wishes. I hope people don't just discontinue reading this because Erik isn't in it that much...believe me...it's happened to me before._

 _There will be many OC's (obviously, she's in a different country), but don't worry, Raoul and Erik haven't disappeared...there is still much to happen!_

 _This will probably be around 20 chapters, but I'm not entirely sure; it's not completely finished yet. Keep in mind I am a busy college student, but I promise I will work on it and update it as much as I possibly can._

 _Thanks so much for reading! Please leave a review if you enjoyed!_


	2. Chapter 2

_A much longer chapter than the first one. Enjoy!_

* * *

Christine had nearly fallen over when she'd stepped off the barge onto dry land. The barges had come to the ship to take them to the harbor. She supposed that she'd just gotten so used to the rocking ship that dry land felt strange. It was a terribly odd sensation. She hadn't had much time to regain herself, however, because there were dozens of people behind her waiting to take their first step on American soil. She was pushed forward, and she very nearly tripped over her own two feet several times. Before she even realized what was happening, she found herself waiting in a line. There was an endless buzz of noise from all around her. She could not decipher who was speaking what language; there were dozens, perhaps hundreds of different tongues being thrown around. She shuffled forward when those in front of her did, packed like sardines between them and those behind her. The more forward they shuffled, the closer they got to the sandy colored building with the words "CASTLE GARDEN" carved into the stone.

Once they'd finally shuffled into the building, Christine could see that it was a massive circular structure. The noises seemed to amplify when she stepped inside; everyone's voices echoed like they would have from the stage of the Opera. Christine could now make out examination tables ahead of them. A few rows down from her, she could hear a woman wailing. It was not in a language that she could understand, but she sounded desperate. The people standing around her suddenly looked nervous. Christine knew that she was perfectly healthy, but she too couldn't help but be unsettled by the agonized cries of a woman denied entrance into her promised land.

After standing on line for over an hour, Christine had finally reached the front of the line. She put down her large suitcase and did as she was told, answering curt questions and performing simple tasks. She was grateful the doctor spoke French, although she supposed it would have simply been a waste of time for everyone involved if they did not employ doctors that spoke different languages. After the inspection, Christine was handed a piece of paper and herded onto another line. _I suppose this means I passed_.

More and more lines, her baggage checked, her intelligence and competency checked, and finally, she was released onto the streets of Manhattan. Families around her rejoiced, couples kissed, fathers lifted their children on their shoulders. Christine looked at them longingly, wishing deeply that she wasn't so alone. For perhaps the millionth time since she'd left her flat in France, she thought that perhaps this was not the right choice. Then again, she was literally standing in New York. She'd made it. There was no use turning back now.

The only trouble was…what now? Unlike many of the emigrants around her, she did not have any friends or relatives in America that would give her employment and a place to live. She hadn't the slightest idea where to go to inquire for either of these things. Everyone was walking in different directions; there was no longer any crowd to follow. Which way to go, which path to choose? She looked in several different directions, blinked a few times, took a deep breath, and just started walking forward.

 _Goodness…I thought Paris was crowded and busy…_ Everywhere she turned there were enormous crowds of people, buildings squeezed together, and the _smell_. It was nearly as bad as the cramped quarters below deck of the ship. _So much for fresh air…_

Christine had hoped that she would have stumbled across a sign asking for employment by now, or at least some sort of boarding house. To her dismay, however, she suddenly realized that even if she had, she wouldn't be able to read it. She didn't know even a bit of English. Panic began to set in. Did she even know where she was? Oh, why had she left Castle Garden so soon? There were hoards of young women there who were no doubt in the same situation as she. Perhaps someone there could help. The only trouble was, how could she get back there if she hadn't a clue where she was?

She began breathing heavily, and her head began spinning. "Help!" she cried. Surely someone here spoke French, and had enough heart to listen! "Please, I'm lost! Can't somebody understand me?" Suddenly a horse whinnied, and she turned around to see a horse-drawn wagon barreling toward her. She screamed and jumped out of the way, landing flat on her face, her suitcase tumbling a few feet away from her. The driver of the wagon shouted in her direction, no doubt spewing profanities at her in English. In a panic, she wildly looked about for her suitcase, nearly throwing herself on it in relief when she found it. She was lucky it hadn't already been snatched up. To her shame and humiliation, she felt tears fill her eyes. There was no need for embarrassment, however, because not a soul spared her even a passing glance. Countless people just stepped around her; some even stepped over her. She found herself trapped on the floor, paralyzed with shame. Perhaps it would be best if she let them trample her.

There was suddenly a gentle touch on her shoulder. Embarrassed to let anyone see her in this state, she quickly wiped her eyes before turning around to look at the stranger. " _Désolé_ …" she murmured apologies quickly before she was scolded for lying in the middle of the sidewalk. " _S'il vous plaît…Pouvez-vous m'aider_?"

The stranger seemed to ignore her, or perhaps not understand her. Without acknowledging what she'd said, he asked: " _Ar du okej_?"

Christine could only blink dumbly for a few seconds. It had been so long… " _Pratar…du Svenska_?"

" _Ja._ " He nodded. "Are you alright?"

Christine's lips formed a tiny smile. " _Ja_ …I'm fine…"

"Here, let me help." The young man extended his hand to her, and she gratefully took it. His hand was rough; he was a hard worker. He helped her up, and before she could stop him, he'd picked up her suitcase.

" _Tack så mycket_ ," Christine said gratefully, wiping her hands on her skirt and taking her suitcase from him.

"No trouble at all. I couldn't just let you lie there forever and wait for the whole of New York to trample you." He grinned, and Christine smiled back. "Where are you headed?"

"I…that's just it. I don't know." Christine shook her head. "I feel so foolish…I came here without a clue as to what I'd do when I got here."

"Don't worry. That's what I'm here for." He smiled again. "My name is Gabriel." He stuck out his hand.

"I'm Christine." She took his hand, and he gave it a firm shake.

He looked at her for a moment as if he were puzzled. "You speak perfect Swedish, yet you speak your name with an accent. And when you first spoke to me, it wasn't Swedish. Are you Swedish, or just bilingual?"

"Oh." Christine laughed a bit. "Yes, I'm Swedish. I moved to France when I was a girl. They…say it differently there."

"Ah, I see. So your name is Christine," he said, pronouncing it the way she hadn't heard in years.

"Yes. My name is Christine." She felt herself tearing up. The last person that had said her name that way was her father. The last person that she'd spoken fluent Swedish with was her father. That part of her had died with him. She'd been thrown into French society after that, and hadn't heard a word of Swedish since her father had whispered his final " _Jag älskar dig_ " to her.

"Alright, Christine," Gabriel interrupted her thoughts. "You're in need of a job, and a place to live, _ja_?"

"Yes, I'm afraid I'm completely helpless."

"You're in luck. The family I work for is looking for a nanny."

"A nanny?" Christine's eyes widened. "I…I don't know a thing about children…"

"Well don't worry, there aren't any yet." Christine's face screwed up in confusion, and he laughed heartily. "What I mean is: the Mistress hasn't given birth yet."

"Oh," Christine laughed too, shaking her head at her silliness. "Of course."

He was simply beaming at her. "Well, would you like me to take you there? It's on my way." He laughed at this as well.

"Because you live there," Christine said, and he nodded, confirming that she understood the joke this time. She sighed. "Well…I haven't seen anyone else jump out and offer me a job yet…"

"Oh, just wait a few more minutes. I'm sure it'll come along soon."

Christine shook her head at him, her eyes glowing with a smile. "Do you ever say anything serious?"

"I do sometimes. When the Master or the Mistress gives a command, I say 'Yes Sir,' or 'Yes Ma'am.' That's about it. I spend most of my time talking nonsense to the horses."

"The horses?"

"I'm their stableboy." Christine nodded in understanding. "It's me and Berthe. She's the maid, and the cook. She's from Ireland, a widow. Came over here when she was thirty, and she's been working there ten years. And does she like to remind me of that."

"How long have you been working there?"

"Nearly two. They're kind people, always treated me right. Even when I didn't speak a word of English, they were patient with me."

"Oh, how could I be a nanny to their child if I don't speak any English myself?" Christine said.

"One step at a time. You'll learn, same as I did. Berthe taught me a lot. Although Berthe speaks quite a different kind of English than the Master and the Mistress…"

"There are different kinds of English?" Christine asked, bewildered.

Gabriel chuckled. "You'll see when we get there. That is, if you'd come with me and consider employment there."

Christine smirked at him. "Well, it's been a few minutes now, and not a soul has jumped out at me. I suppose I'll have to settle with you."

He gave her that wide grin again, and she couldn't help but laugh. There was something so endearing about his smile.

This made her think of Raoul.

She could clearly see it in her mind: that silly grin that he'd had ever since he was a little boy. It was gap-toothed and funny when he was a child, and as he grew, it became charming and sweet, although still funny.

What was wrong with her? Comparing a boy she'd just met to her lover? Was she to do this forever? Was she doomed to see pieces of Raoul in every man for the rest of her life? Perhaps it was the guilt, perhaps it was her heart reminding her she still loved him.

Pushing this out of her mind, she instead engaged in conversation with Gabriel. He told her all about the Williams household. Christine had wondered how it was that Berthe had worked in the house for ten years, and the couple still hadn't had any children, and Gabriel had soon provided the answer. Apparently the Master, Elias, married ten years ago to a woman named Harriet, and that's when they hired Berthe. About a year and a half into their marriage, Harriet gave birth to a stillborn child and died shortly after. Elias grieved her for five years before he met Lucy, and Elias and Lucy had gotten married shortly after hiring Gabriel.

"They've had dozens of stable boys over the years," he explained. "It's always gone to some immigrant or another. I think they see it as a kind of charity work. In a way, it is."

Christine pondered this for a moment. "Was there…a nanny the…last time?"

"Yes, Berthe's told me. Her name was Margaret; Berthe calls her Peggy. Another Irishwoman. I think they came over together. The Master didn't have the heart to keep her around. He gave her about two months' worth of wages and dismissed her." Gabriel shook his head sadly. "Berthe cries every time she talks about Peggy. I wonder if they were sisters, or just very good friends. She doesn't only cry for herself and Peggy, though. She cries for the Master and his lost wife and child. The child was a girl, Berthe's told me. They named her Caroline."

"Oh, how awful…" Christine's heart nearly broke. So much suffering had just been revealed to her in merely minutes.

"Yes, it was. But that was all before my time. From what I can see, Elias and Lucy are very happy. Berthe tells me every day that Elias is happier than he's been in years. I think Berthe has always been sweet on the Master. She talks of him so highly, and after all, all they had was each other for those five years." He shrugged. "Berthe will never admit it. She's stubborn as a mule." Christine chuckled softly.

"This is it, here." Gabriel gestured to a street on their right lined with beautiful houses.

"Oh. It isn't far at all."

"No. There's quite a lot of immigrants working as hired help in this area because it's so close to Castle Garden. All different languages, all different cultures. The 'melting pot', they call it."

Christine smiled slightly. "It sounds nice."

"I suppose."

"Suppose?" Christine's brow furrowed.

"Well, you can't escape prejudice no matter where you go. The Irish hate the Italians, the Italians hate the Irish, most Americans hate both the Italians and the Irish, the Swedes hate the Poles, the Poles hate the Irish…and the Italians…"

"My goodness…" Christine shook her head fretfully. "Why so much hatred?"

"Lord only knows." Gabriel shrugged. "But in the Williams household, everything goes along quite peacefully. So don't you worry."

Christine offered a weak smile. _What a strange world I've leapt into_ …

The walked up to one of the smaller yet equally as beautiful houses, and Gabriel took her around to the side.

"Servants don't use the front door," he explained. "Although, when the children grow and you take them on outings, I suppose you will."

"Assuming they'll have me," Christine said fretfully. If they wouldn't…well she had no idea what she would do.

"Oh, don't worry. They'll love you. You're sweet as anything, and you've got lots of years left." Gabriel pulled a key out of his pocket and unlocked the door in front of them. "I'll translate for you during the interview."

"But Gabriel…I've never raised children." She hesitantly followed him into the house. "I truly haven't the slightest clue what to do…"

"You've never cared for a little sister or brother?" She shook her head. "A cousin?" She shook her head again. "A neighbor? You've never worked in a household before?"

"No. None of that."

"Hm…" He looked thoughtful. "The Mistress did say she wanted someone who had experience. As did the Master."

"This is foolish…" Christine shook her head. "Surely there is someone else on this street hiring for…for any other position…"

"Well, I could explain to them that you have no experience…perhaps they'd take more kindly to you if I told them you were a cousin of mine…"

"You mean…lie?" Christine was aghast. "I couldn't allow myself to be employed under false pretenses…it is not right…"

"Well, I couldn't allow you to roam the streets with no money and nowhere to go," he said firmly. "Terrible things happen to young women in this city. Especially at night."

Christine shuddered. "Well…I — "

Suddenly a door burst open, and through it came a woman with strikingly red hair. She was muscly and well endowed. Her face was harsh, but she had kind eyes. Gabriel started speaking in a language Christine did not understand, but she assumed it to be English. She understood the name "Berthe" come from Gabriel, and she immediately realized who it was. Berthe answered back in a strident, booming voice, and she gestured to Christine. Christine heard her own name from Gabriel, and she assumed that he was introducing her. She smiled meekly and curtsied slightly.

"This is Berthe," Gabriel said to Christine in Swedish, and she nodded.

The two continued to converse, and Christine stood uncomfortably, suddenly feeling very stupid. She felt as if she were six years old again, ripped away from Sweden and brought to France, where she understood no one and nothing. Looking at her surroundings, Christine noticed they were standing in the kitchen.

"Christine?" Gabriel pulled her out of her thoughts. "Berthe's just told me the Master is at work, and the Mistress is sewing in the drawing room. You'd like to meet her, yes?"

"I…I suppose…"

Gabriel spoke briefly to Berthe, and then she was gone.

"She's going to tell the Mistress we have a young Swede applying for the nanny position. We'll be behind her in a moment."

"Gabriel…are you sure about this? What if she rejects me? Or…what if when the child is born, I fail it, and they throw me on the streets, and then the child will have no one to care for it."

Gabriel chuckled. "You worry quite a lot, don't you?"

Christine stopped for a moment. No one had ever said that to her before. "Do I?"

"Indeed," he said lightly. "Just come. You won't know what will happen until it happens. _Ja_?"

Christine offered a frightened smile. "… _Ja_."

Gabriel strode to the door Berthe had just left through, opened it, and gestured grandly. "After you, Madame."

Christine let herself laugh. He was obviously trying to calm her nerves, and she supposed she may as well let him. She followed him through a narrow hallway, and he pointed out which door was the dining room and which door led to the servant's quarters. They walked out of a door and into a less narrow hallway. Christine deduced that this was the main hallway, and the smaller one was for servants. _I suppose the hired help remains hidden in America as they did in France_. She remembered servants appearing in the Chagny house seemingly from nowhere.

There were portraits on the wall of regal men, of elegant women, of beautiful children. There were beautiful plants arranged on little round tables.

"The mistress loves flowers," Gabriel explained. "Berthe and I care for them together. I suppose you could say we're nannies to the plants."

Christine chuckled softly. It was so strange to see a house in a different light like this. When she visited Raoul, she was always a guest. The servants took her cloak, brought her tea, cooked her meals, made sure she was warm. And they always seemed to disappear into thin air. She'd never once thought of where they'd gone to, and what they did behind those little doors they disappeared through. She supposed she would find out now.

They reached an archway, and Christine could see Berthe standing in the opening. Berthe turned around, gave Christine a brief yet scrutinizing look, and hurried off in the direction she'd come. Sitting in a flowered blue armchair was a strikingly beautiful, heavily pregnant young woman. She was sewing something in white lace, something small. Christine thought perhaps a Christening gown.

The woman smiled brightly and set aside her sewing. She looked as if she were about to stand, and Gabriel rushed to her side to help her up. The woman said something to him gratefully, which Christine assumed was a thank you. The woman then extended her hand to Christine. "Lucy," she said.

"Christine." She took her hand and shook it. Lucy said something and gestured to another armchair, and Christine took that as the initiative to sit. Gabriel helped Lucy back into her chair, then stood dutifully behind Christine's chair.

Lucy spoke, and after she finished, Gabriel said: "She asked for your age, your previous employment, and about your family."

Christine swallowed nervously. She could not tell her that her previous employment was Prima Donna of the Paris Opera. But she'd never done anything else. "I…I'm nearly twenty-one. I…I…worked as a maid for an aristocratic family in Paris." She quickly thought of this. If they wanted to contact her previous employer, Christine could always write ahead and ask Raoul to lie for her. Although she would feel despicable asking Raoul for any favors. "And I…have no family."

Gabriel translated, and Lucy looked confused as she answered him.

"She wonders what you mean by no family," Gabriel explained.

"My mother died when I was six. My father died when I was fifteen. I've no brothers or sisters, and no other living relatives. I have a guardian of sorts…Madame Velarius. But she is old and ailing…I left her in a hospital in Paris before I came here. I…I expect news of her death soon." Christine's heart felt heavy. She still felt guilt for leaving the poor woman behind. But she barely remembered Christine's name anymore, and surely she would go mad if she stayed with her much longer.

Lucy looked at her sympathetically, and said something else.

"She says she is sorry for all of your loss. She is curious why you were in Paris if you are Swedish."

Christine explained that she moved to France as a child, and that she'd been there ever since.

" _Parlez-vous Français_?" Lucy asked excitedly.

" _Oui_ ," Christine said eagerly. _"Et toi_?"

" _Oui_!" Lucy nodded. "Oh, this is wonderful! It will be so much easier to interview you this way."

Christine sighed with relief. "I must tell you, it is wonderful to hear you speak a language I understand."

"I'm sure!" Lucy said.

"If you don't mind my asking, why is it you know French? Were you born there?" Christine asked.

"Oh, it's simply expected of young women of my class to know French," Lucy explained. "I'm sure the aristocrats you worked for in France taught their children English, and perhaps even German and Italian."

"Oh, I see."

"Now tell me, did the family for which you worked have children? Did you ever care for them?"

"Uh…" Christine was not sure what to say. The only child of the Chagny family she'd met was Raoul, and he was a child when she too was a child. "Yes, but I hardly cared for them, aside from giving them meals. They had nannies and governesses."

"Alright. But surely you know how to care for children?"

"Well…the basics." Christine found that she could not lie.

Lucy was thoughtful for a moment. "I must tell you…when I thought of the woman I'd hire as our nanny, I thought of a spinster that had already raised dozens of her own children. It frightens me to think you are so young and so inexperienced."

Christine's face fell, although she tried to hide it.

"Although…I'm hardly older than you myself. What do I know about children either?" She shrugged. "My husband is ten years older than me; to him I'm still a little girl. I suppose I am. I'm twenty-three. We married when I was your age." Christine nodded. "I also must admit that I do not intend to let any nanny whisk my children away like other mothers do. I find it abhorrent that women of society give birth to their children and give them to someone else to raise. I had a nanny and a governess, but my mother had a hand in raising me, and there was never a doubt in my mind that she loved me. I had friends that never knew if their mother loved them." She shook her head firmly, possessively placing her hands over her large abdomen. "No, my children will feel my love. We will raise them together."

"I'm sorry…we?"

Lucy smiled. Her blue eyes lit up. "I like you, Christine. Very much. I did not expect to hire a nanny so close to my age…but now that the idea has been presented to me…I've fallen in love with it." Her smile grew, and had she not been so heavily pregnant, Christine would have thought she was talking to an energetic little girl. "You can be a friend to me, Christine. The thought of having some boring old spinster helping me sew and telling me the stitches are wrong, or telling me I'm holding my child incorrectly, or not letting me feed my child…it sounds horrid to me now. Won't you be our nanny, Christine?"

Christine was absolutely taken aback. Not only did Lucy not care that she was inexperienced and young…she welcomed it! This was not at all what she'd expected. "I…I would love to. Of course."

Lucy gave a sort of childish giggle, and clapped her hands joyfully. "Oh, I'm so happy! Of course, my husband will have to meet you and approve, but I'm sure he will. Especially after I've told him what good friends we've become already."

Christine smiled uncomfortably. She'd never so quickly become someone's friend.

"Oh, Gabriel!" Lucy giggled again. "I forgot he was standing there! He hasn't a clue what's just happened." She laughed boisterously. The sound reminded Christine vaguely of little bells. Lucy spoke to Gabriel in English, and Gabriel answered enthusiastically.

He gently put his hand on Christine's shoulder, and she turned in her seat to look at him. "Congratulations, Christine. I told you it would be fine." He winked at her, squeezed her shoulder, and left.

"I've just told him to have Berthe bring us tea," Lucy said, and Christine turned back around. "I want to talk to you some more. You're simply charming."

"Well…thank you." Christine could tell she was blushing. She was simply bewildered. Much too much had happened in such a small amount of time.

"You're shy aren't you?" Lucy giggled. "As I'm sure you can tell, I certainly am not. Mother always told me I talked far too much. 'A young lady must only speak when spoken to.' I find it utterly ridiculous. I've a mind like any other person, don't I? I might as well say what's on my mind, shouldn't I?"

"Yes, I suppose you're right."

"Mother said I would never find a husband if I didn't start acting like a lady. I showed her, didn't I?" Lucy giggled again, and Christine smiled. "Elias loves talking to me. There are times where we stay up all night just talking. Mother said a man hates a woman who chews his ear off. Well, I can confidently say that Elias loves it. And I love when he chews my ear off. He always has such wonderful things to say. And besides," she added, rolling her eyes. "I _do_ act like a lady. I wear what's most fashionable, and I put pins in my hair and rouge on my cheeks, and I am very polite. I just happen to have a big mouth."

Christine chuckled softly. _At least she's aware of it_.

"I've hardly ever had friends my age. All of my girl friends married off years ago. And although Berthe is so very dear to me, she is much too old to be a _girl friend_. I think she thinks of me as her charge, like my nanny and my governess thought of me." She shrugged. "It's sweet of her."

"I…don't suppose I've ever had any girlfriends," Christine said thoughtfully. "My only friends were my father and…and a little boy. We've…grown apart."

Lucy looked at her sympathetically. "Aren't you ever lonely?"

 _Yes, I was once. Then I befriended a madman pretending to be my guardian angel._ "Not really. I never really needed anything more than my father."

"Nonsense. Every young woman needs at least one girl friend." Lucy winked.

Christine could not help but smile. "Yes, perhaps you're right."

* * *

 _Quite the eventful chapter! Thanks so much for reading! Please leave a review if you enjoyed!_


	3. Chapter 3

Lucy kept Christine in the room for longer than she even realized, and Berthe came in at one point and said something to Lucy. Lucy rolled her eyes and seemed to object, and for perhaps the hundredth time since she'd met her, Christine was reminded of a child.

"Berthe is putting me down for a nap like a little child." Lucy sighed. "The doctor insists that I take naps for the benefit of the child. I'm surely not tired, mind you." She went to stand, and Berthe rushed to help her up. "But Berthe has eyes on me like a hawk, thanks to my husband." Christine stood up as well. "Christine, it was so very lovely to meet you. Berthe can show you around the house and the servant's quarters, and when my husband arrives I shall send for you."

"It was lovely to meet you as well, Madame."

"Please, call me Lucy. Formalities have always made me uncomfortable."

"Alright, Lucy." Christine smiled warmly.

Berthe led Lucy out of the room, and although Christine did want to see the rest of the house, she had no interest in being alone with such an imposing woman that didn't speak any language that she understood. Perhaps that was _her_ being rather childish, but she couldn't stop herself. She made a quick exit, remembering the way she'd come, and returning to the kitchen. She only hoped Berthe wouldn't think this too rude of her. As she'd expected, Gabriel was not there, and this sent a wave of panic through her. She thought perhaps he'd be in the stable, and the only trouble was that she had no idea where that was. She found the door to the outside that they'd entered from, and she wandered around the grounds until she came upon a structure that had to be the stable.

As she got closer, she heard a gentle voice coming from inside. She peered through door that had been left slightly ajar, and she saw Gabriel brushing down one of the horses. There were no other people in the stable. Christine laughed to herself; he hadn't been lying when he said he talked to the horses. She watched him for a while. If she heard him correctly, he referred to the one he was brushing as Topher, and he talked over his shoulder to another one he called Alice. Alice seemed very jealous of the attention Topher was getting, and Gabriel kept assuring her that he would be with her in a moment.

"For Heaven's sake, Alice, you'd think you were a newborn babe!" Christine chuckled again. Gabriel gave Topher a pat on his back, and then he moved to Alice. "A little princess, you are." He shook his head at her, but then Alice put her nose on his face, and he laughed. "Yes, that's my princess." He rubbed up and down her neck with his hands. Christine was unable to hear him anymore; he was whispering to her now. Christine's heart warmed as she watched him. She'd never seen a man treat a horse with such kindness.

As much as she didn't want to interrupt him (and as much as she didn't want to stop watching), she also didn't want to be caught staring, so she pushed the door open to make herself known.

Gabriel immediately looked up from Alice, and his face spread into a grin. " _Hallå_!" He called to her, not taking his hands off of Alice. Surely she would have objected if he'd done so. "It went well, didn't it?"

"Yes, it did." She crossed the stable to be closer to him. "Lucy and I are 'girlfriends' now, as she put it."

Gabriel laughed. "She is something, she is."

"Indeed. I only hope that her husband takes such a liking to me…"

"Oh, he will. And even if he doesn't Lucy will make sure he does."

"How do you mean?"

"She gets anything she wants from that man." Gabriel laughed again. "He is clay in her hands. He adores her."

Christine laughed softly. "The way you adore your princess here?"

Another laughed. "You heard that?"

She nodded. "It's sweet. You have such a way with them."

He shrugged. "Mama always said I should have been born a horse."

She laughed again. "I might have to agree." She took another step closer to Alice and picked up her hand. "May I?"

"Oh, of course." Gabriel let go of Alice and moved around her to where Christine stood. He took hold of her hands and placed the left one on her back, and the right one on her neck. "Right there. Make circles with the left, and gently scratch with the right. She loves that." Christine did as he said, and she could not help the wide grin that spread across her face. Alice did seem very pleased. Gabriel moved to her other side and did the same. "Normally I have to go one side at a time. She's getting spoiled today." They both laughed.

"It's wonderful how much you care for them." Christine said earnestly. They could see each other over Alice's back.

He shrugged. "It's just human decency. They're not just workhorses. Sure, they have jobs to do, as we all do. But they have souls. They have personalities, and wishes, and loves."

"Alice has quite the personality," Christine said.

"She does, indeed." Gabriel laughed. "I'm grateful I wasn't around when she was broken. I only wonder how the previous stableboy survived the process."

Another laugh. "She loves you, I can tell."

" _Ja_ , she does." Gabriel looked at her lovingly. "Perhaps I'd be better off marrying Alice than any woman, _ja_?"

Christine shook her head, laughing again. What was it about him that kept her laughing? "Do you think Topher is getting jealous now?"

Gabriel glance over at him. "Oh, surely. But he is much more patient than the princess." He released Alice and walked over to Topher, pulling a carrot out of his pocket. He fed it to Topher, gave him a quick pat, and returned to Alice. "He is much more easily satisfied."

Christine smiled. They tended to Alice silently for a moment, and Christine was gazing into the gentle eyes of the animal. She could feel Gabriel's eyes on her the whole time, and she felt a blush creeping up the back of her neck. She took her eyes off of Alice and looked at him, and their eyes met for the briefest moment, before they both quickly turned their attention to the horse.

"Tell me, Christine," he said after a while, breaking the silence. "What brings you to America?"

Christine took a deep breath. Any really true answer would take days to explain. So she simply said: "I needed a fresh start. A new life." Perhaps it'd come out more cryptic than she'd meant it to, because Gabriel gave her a questioning look. She simply smiled, and he awkwardly smiled back, apparently deciding to not press any further.

"Well, what brought you to France as a girl? Why did you leave Sweden then?"

"My father's…line of work required traveling very often." She decided it best to not reveal that her father was a musician; she was afraid that this would in turn reveal that she was a singer. "It was only he and I since my mother died when I was so young."

"I see." He looked at her for a moment, and she wished he wouldn't. "I'm sorry…did I upset you?"

"No, no…" She cleared her throat and sniffled. "It isn't your fault." She breathed deeply. "Forgive me. Every time I speak of him, I think that I won't…get upset. And I always do…It's been so long now, I just feel silly."

"No, it's alright. I understand. I uh…had a little sister. Her name was Birgitta. She was born when I was five, and she was my whole world. I cherished her like she was gold. I had a younger brother that was three at the time, and two older sisters, six and seven. The girls had each other, and they doted on my brother. I had no one all to myself, until Birgitta. Mama always tried to get one of the girls to feed her or change her diapers or put her to sleep, but I always wanted to. Mama always said I got in the way of her teaching the girls how to care for babies." He chuckled softly at this. "We grew up together, and she was always mine. She always wanted to play with me, not the girls. I played with my brother of course, but not the way I played with Birgitta. She liked to pretend she was a princess, and I was always more than happy to oblige." Christine saw that he was tearing up. "When I was fourteen she got the scarlet fever. Mama locked her up so none of us would get sick, and she was gone two days after she'd gotten sick. Nobody else got it, thank God. But Birgitta was all alone because of it. Mama was the only one allowed to see her…she uh…" He sniffled. "Mama said she asked for me right before she died. But I couldn't go to her." He quickly wiped his eyes. "See? Ten years later, and I still cry thinking about it."

Christine found herself tearing up at his story as well. "I'm so sorry. I…I'm sure she knows how much you love her."

"Yes…thank you. I'm sorry about your father," he said sincerely. "It seems like you were very close to him."

"Yes…I was all he had, and he was all I had. He doted on me like I was a babe right up until the day he died. I suppose you could say I was his Birgitta."

Gabriel nodded in understanding. "Everyone has a Birgitta, I think. It's just a matter of if they've lost them yet."

Christine thought about this for a moment. She really hadn't _had_ someone for herself like Birgitta. She had, however, been that person for her father, for Raoul…for Erik. She briefly wondered if she would ever be allowed the privilege of loving someone so deeply without any conditions…like giving up her freedom.

"Well, enough of that," Gabriel said cheerily. "I'll tell you why I came to America. I came because I heard about land in the West, good land. The land in Sweden is poor quality, and hard to come by now. All the other young men in Sweden were leaving their families for America, getting their land, and sending money back home as soon as they could. And that's what I plan to do. Although it's taking a bit longer than I thought it would."

"Do you miss them terribly? Your family?"

"Yes, I do. Both of my sisters have already gotten married in the time I've been gone. I'm sure it won't be long until I miss my brother's wedding too." He sighed. "There are two younger ones that came after Birgitta; let's hope they're not at marriage age before I've got enough money saved up." He chuckled at this joke, although Christine could tell that he was't entirely joking.

"Who will come? Just your parents and the young ones? Or your sisters and their husbands as well?"

"I don't really know yet." He shrugged. "I suppose it depends on how much longer this takes."

"Are you close?"

"Close to having enough to move west myself," he said. "But not close enough to move west _and_ send money back home for their passage."

Christine looked at him sadly. "I am sorry to hear that…is the pay fair?"

"Oh yes, it is. I would never speak ill of the family. The pay is certainly fair. It's just very hard to save enough money while still sending money back home. They have nothing over there. The farm is useless. They live off of the money I send them. Sometimes I worry that I'll never have enough to move west and get my family a new farm. But it's more important that they not starve right now. I can only pray that my sisters' husbands are providing for them now. Perhaps that will ease the burden."

"Yes, perhaps it will," Christine encouraged. She could not imagine having to work so hard to support an entire family that literally survived off of what she made. She could not imagine carrying that burden.

"The reason I was by Castle Garden today is I was checking to see if they've decided to join me without sending a letter. It's been a while since I've heard from them, you see, and I just supposed that they wanted to surprise me in America. It sounds foolish to say out loud, now that I've actually said it. Surely they would write to me first, don't you think?"

"Perhaps," Christine said. "But it's not foolish to have hope."

He looked at her for a moment with a strange look in his eye that made Christine wonder what he was thinking. He then shook his head with that silly grin again. "I'm sure there are much better things I could be doing with my free time."

"Well, _I_ certainly am glad you decided to come by Castle Garden," Christine said. "God knows what would have become of me if you hadn't."

He laughed. "No doubt you would've been trampled if I hadn't daringly rescued you."

She laughed too. "Yes, no doubt."

At that moment, the door burst open, and Christine's head whipped around. Berthe threw her hands up in exasperation and began speaking. Gabriel released Alice and walked around her and towards Berthe. They spoke, and Christine could feel her face turning red. No doubt Berthe was searching for her this entire time.

"Christine," Gabriel finally called to her. She hurried to his side. "Berthe would like to show you the house, specifically the nursery wing."

"She seems unhappy," Christine whispered. It seemed silly to whisper; Berthe could not understand them anyway. It was just an instinct.

Gabriel gave a small chuckle. "She says she searched the entire house for you after she put Lucy to bed. She also said something about having to nanny the nanny." Christine felt her face turn even redder, and Gabriel just laughed again. "Oh, Christine, relax. I promise you, she's not as harsh as she seems. She just likes to intimidate newcomers. Believe me, I would know."

"It's hard to believe that…" Christine gave her a quick glance. She was standing there, stiff as a board, her arms crossed over her chest impatiently. Her eyes also bore into Christine like knives. "Even still…I won't be able to understand her."

"Would you like me to come along?"

Christine immediately lit up, but tried to hide her enthusiasm. "Well…if you wouldn't mind. I don't mean to interrupt your work…"

"Oh, this isn't work. We were just playing." He glanced back at Alice. "I'm sure the princess can survive a few minutes without me."

Christine chuckled. "Well…alright. Could you tell her that you'll be joining us?"

He nodded, and spoke to her. Berthe nodded, gave a gruff response, and bid them follow her. She led them back into the kitchen. She gestured around them and said a word in English.

"Kitchen," Gabriel repeated. " _Kök_ in English."

"Kitchen," Christine repeated with some difficulty. Gabriel smiled encouragingly, and Berthe led them out of the _kök_. They continued in this manner, Berthe showing a room, Gabriel translating, and Christine attempting to learn the word. Along with kitchen, she learned "hallway", "sitting room", "dining room", "drawing room", "bedroom", "bathroom", and finally, "nursery". Christine's head was positively swimming. She'd already had two names in her head for everything, and now she would have to learn a third one.

The nursery was on the third floor, tucked away from everything else, similarly to how it was in Europe. In this area of the house, Berthe took her time explaining what everything was. The cradle, the armoire, the clothing, the changing table, the high chair, the diapers, and bottles…it was quite a lot to take in. She retained perhaps half of it. She also showed her where she would be living, just down the hall from where the baby would be. "Baby"; that was another word she learned. It was similar enough to the French word.

It was all quite overwhelming. A tour was supposed to familiarize her with the home, but in her attempt to learn the words, she hadn't been paying attention to where anything _was_. Berthe gave Christine one final scrutinizing look before leaving her room. Gabriel stayed behind. Berthe had brought Christine's suitcase up already, but she was hesitant to start unpacking until the Master officially allowed her to stay. Gabriel must be right about the Master doing whatever Lucy says if even Berthe was confident enough to bring her suitcase up already.

"You seem worried," Gabriel interrupted her whirling thoughts.

"Do I?" She joked.

" _Ja_ , I can't imagine why," he joked back.

"It's so much," she said, shaking her head in disbelief. "I don't know why I thought I could do this…part of me is hoping that the Master turns me away so I can just say that I failed and go back to France…"

"Don't talk like that," he said gently. "You don't give yourself enough credit. My first day I never thought I would learn anything either. And I didn't have someone who knew my language. You know two languages, and you have me, that knows one of them, and both Lucy and the Master know French. You're already much better off than I was."

"But it's so confusing…It was hard enough to train myself to only call things by their French name when I was a girl…and now I'm speaking fluent Swedish for the first time in years, but I cannot forget the French, but now I have to learn to call things by their English name…" Much to her shame, she could feel tears filling her eyes.

"Oh, don't cry," he said forlornly, crossing the room to be closer to her. "I can't stand to see a woman cry."

"I'm sorry…" She sniffled and quickly wiped her eyes. "You're right; I do worry too much. I am also much too easily overwhelmed."

"Well that's alright," Gabriel assured her. "There's no need to worry. You have a friend, Christine. I won't let you fail. I promise." He put a reassuring hand on her back, and Christine looked up and smiled. For the first time in a very long time, she was genuinely comforted by his words and by his hand. She truly trusted him, and she couldn't put her finger on exactly why.

"Thank you, Gabriel." She put her hand on his shoulder. "You're a good friend."

He beamed. "I surely try to be."

The door suddenly opened behind them, and they both turned around.

"Christine, dear," Lucy said, smiling warmly. "My husband has just come home. Come, I'll introduce you."

* * *

 _So sorry it's been so long! College is busy as I'm sure most of you all know. I had most of this written for a while, there were just bits I had to fill in before I could publish it, and I had to wait until my break before I had time. And now I'm about to go back to school, so it'll probably be a while before another update. Be sure to leave reviews so I know there are people out there that actually want to read more of this! We get to know Gabriel a bit more in this chapter, and I'd love to hear what you all think of him!_


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